


touch

by winsome



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winsome/pseuds/winsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray doesn't like Ryan and it takes two months with him to unlearn that. In his defense, Ryan doesn't seem to like Ryan all that much, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch

"Your team has been reassigned," Ramsey says in the voice he uses when the meeting is being recorded. It's stiff. It would explain the pomp: Pattillo usually does not sit in on meetings, but he is sitting at Ramsey's side, idly messing with a large PC and not saying a word.

Ray controls his breathing, and Michael reacts much better than Ray expects, which is to say, he stands up and stomps out without permission. Ramsey watches him go until he slams the door and turns to Ray. "You're taking this much better than expected," he says, without motioning at Pattillo. Still on record, then. Ray nods.

"Permission to speak plainly, sir," he says, and Geoff affords him a small affirmative wave. "I believe this is a mistake. Michael and I have the highest and cleanest success rate out of all currently active teams. Our compatibility is astronomical and our actual field work is undeniable."

Ramsey nods at him as he's talking and waits for him to finish though he's obviously aware of everything that's been spouted. "And we respect that," he says. "However, a pair of agents that was good in theory is proving to be very, very bad in practice. The quartermaster's runner-up for compatibility happens to be your agent, and we believe you have the strength to reign in their current agent."

"Is their current agent having problems being reigned in?" Ray asks with a frown.

"It's Haywood," Ramsey replies. Ray resists groaning, but barely, and he suddenly understands why Michael left; he must have known. They weren't going to change the outcome. Ramsey continues. "I wanted to tell you and your partner at the same time, but it appears he's taking a minor sabbattical."

Ray nods curtly and clasps his hands together. "He'll be fine. He knows."

* * *

"Gavin, seriously?!" Ray strides into Gavin's office and slams his hands down on his desk. "You're dumping him on me? You told me the horror stories!"

Gavin gestures wildly to the phone attached to his ear, mouthing, "Haywood!", but it just eggs Ray on. "I don't care if that's the guy right there, I hope he knows I think he's a fucking reckless agent! I've been working with Michael for years!"

The line buzzes with words Ray can't hear, and then Gavin starts laughing. He shoves a couple knuckles in his mouth to stifle it, but Ray knows whatever's being said is at his expense.

"Hey! Fucko! I was talking to you!" Ray snaps, gritting his teeth.

"All right, chill out," Gavin says to Ray. He puts the phone down without ending the call. "Ray, listen. Michael already came by and yelled at me, thanks, so you've honestly got nothing to say that I didn't hear worse already. Haywood's a great agent, we just weren't... gelling."

"Gelling? Really?" Ray splutters. "I don't care if you weren't fucking gelling, I know for a fact you requested Michael! Your next up in compatibility is Lindsay!"

Gavin throws his hands up. "And do you think Tina could handle Haywood?"

Ray glares at him. "It'd be her job," he says. "She'd get her job done."

"And unfortunately," Gavin says, picking his phone back up, "it's your job. So get it done." Ray almost strangles him, almost, but instead settles for kicking his desk in frustration.

"Fuck you for sucking Ramsey's dick, seriously! The special treatment is getting really fucking annoying!" Gavin looks a little hurt at that one, just barely, but Ray turns on his heel and leaves.

* * *

They meet, actually meet, in a small glass meeting room, gathered together by Ramsey. He gives Ray a sixteen page hard copy mission debriefment and informs him that it's Ray's decision on what to share, a responsibility that's new to him and uncommon for young quartermasters. Haywood is tall and broad and very agent-like, handsome but conventional, charming but trustworthy. Or Ray supposes he would be, if Ray didn't deal with his kind literally all day.

"My new quartermaster," Haywood says, and sticks out his hand. Ray takes it and shakes, keeping his grip limp.

"Agent," he says formally.

Haywood grins wolfishly and takes the seat right across from him. It feels almost like a challenge coming from him. "Ray," he returns. "I must say, with your record, I thought you'd be out of your teens."

Ray breathes in slowly. "With your record, I pretty much expected you to be geriatric, so at least one of us had our expectations met today."

"Nice to see you're always this dedicated to being unpleasant," Haywood replies mildly. "Could we move on to a less disappointing part of the night?"

"You'll be stationed in Chile," Ray says. "Ideal time is one week. Locate and secure four human targets, relatively unharmed, though moderate force may be used in obtaining them. They are as good as worthless to us dead. They have been growing dangerous on the international cyber scene, and we have strong reason to believe they're trying to crack our systems here. All in their mid-thirties, two w--"

"Whoa, there," Haywood says, holding his hands up. "Wanna not dump all this on me now? What sort of quartermaster doesn't keep a bunch of secrets, for the sake of the mission, or whatever?"

"That's a bitch move," Ray says. "I didn't get in this business to be a bitch."

"Give me my own copy of the debrief, then," Haywood challenges, and Ray almost laughs before he remembers this dude is seriously fucked up.

"That'd be pretty fucking stupid, huh," he says, and doesn't move to give him any papers, and Haywood grins.

"Ah." He leans back. "You're a blast."

* * *

Haywood's radio is manually turned off during a gunfight, apparently in the lobby of a ritzy hotel. Ray throws his headset down in frustration and immediately has to pick it back up and put it back on. Thirteen hours later, a couple hours before the sun decides to come back, he instructs an intern to take it, with the instructions that should Haywood activate it again, Pattillo should be told immediately. He thinks of bed the whole train ride home, and up the four flights of stairs it takes to get to his apartment.

When he unlocks it, however, he realizes immediately something is off. He pulls his pistol from its shoulder strap fluidly, despite the miniscule amount of time he's actually spent holding it, and adopts weaver stance. He peeks around the kitchen, and to the living room. The window to the balcony is open. Cautiously, he approaches it, contemplating whether he should call the police or Ramsey, when he hears a noise behind him and whirls around, pistol still raised.

"I'm injured," Haywood says to Ray's pistol, which is aimed roughly at his neck. Ray doesn't settle it down, but continues to stare, eyes not completely adjusted to lack of light. His heart is pounding, but it's giving way to the rise of irritation. He can vaguely see red on Haywood's side, where he's clutching both his hands. "Stabbed," he continues at length, when Ray doesn't say anything. "After I landed. If that's not clear. Didn't wait a whole flight to get help."

"Jesus, Haywood! No wonder Gav demanded reassignment, what sort of agent drops off the radar and shows up -- injured -- to a private residence? There's about forty more convenient places to go, in this area alone. How did you even manage to get stabbed? What kind of sociopath does this." Ray slams on the living room light, and it's pale and yellow and not enough.

"Well--" he starts, clearly ready to spout some bullshit, and Ray cuts him off.

"You, Haywood, you're who. Michael always managed to somehow keep his radios intact. What a feat! I'm pretty sure every agent can do it but you."

"This is great, really, but I'm kind of bleeding out on your floor," Haywood says.

Ray huffs frustratedly before stepping forward and pushing Haywood's hands away from his side with one of his own. The gash the knife ripped out of his ribs is deep, but not lethal. "I don't have a first aid kit," Ray gripes. He clicks the safety on his gun and tosses it to the couch, and Haywood takes this as permission to settle his bloody ass next to it. He's clutching his sides again, but his humour's clearly good enough. Ray flicks on a light and Haywood winces.

"You don't have a first aid kit," he repeats drily.

"Usually, Michael goes to the fucking medics," he hisses, voice almost wavering into a yell. He storms into the kitchen and leaves the angry fluorescent light off. "Why the fuck would I have a first aid kit." He yanks open a drawer and rifles around for anything twine-like, and it's useless, he knows it, but he keeps yanking drawers open. In one he successfully pulls out a small sewing kit he decided not to throw out last year while cleaning. Thank god.

"In our line of work?" Haywood asks. "You're really asking me that?"

"So far we've been able to leave my apartment out of this!" Ray slams his last drawer shut, then stalks off to the bathroom. Last resorts it is. He can feel Haywood's dreading eyes on him, and he doesn't disappoint when he emerges with a small container of dental floss and a bottle of peroxide. Haywood laughs.

"Think that stuff really holds, agent?" he quips. Ray tosses the peroxide at him, and Haywood doesn't stop grinning even as he adjusts to pour it on his wounds. And Ray's couch.

"Better than sewing thread." Ray settles on his knees by Haywood's feet, pulls out a lighter from his pocket, and finally feels a little cowed as he has a small realization. "I don't... have any alcohol." Haywood stares at him.

"For drinking," he clarifies. "So... y'know..." Ray trails off, fiddling with the tiny sewing kit. He pulls out the thickest needle he can find and looks at Ryan. "Sorry, I guess."

Haywood huffs out a laugh, small and exasperated. "Just fucking do it."

Ray nods tightly, runs the lighter under the needle a little longer than he normally would, slightly burning his fingers, then snaps at Ryan for the alcohol and dips the needle in it with one hand. He pulls a long stretch of dental floss out of its container and tears a couple feet off with his incisors. After one last look to Haywood for confirmation, he pulls the two ragged edges of skin together over his ribs, and grabs the needle and yanks it through the first flap of skin. It's a lot tougher than Ray remembers skin being, but it's probably the weakness of the needle. Haywood's breathing doesn't even change, and Ray mentally reminds himself to just keep going. So he does, focusing on the gaping wound in front of him.

"So," Haywood drawls. "Come here often?"

"Yeah, you're a real laugh," Ray says, the blood leaking over the minty floss in a way he doesn't want to remember. He doesn't like the way the skin tears under the weak needle. It's making him slightly queasy.

"You've got everyone fooled, Ray," Haywood says. "They all think you're this happy-go-lucky guy. What makes me so special?"

"Circumstance," Ray replies. "That's it."

"So you might like me under better circumstances, is what I'm hearing?" Haywood says, and his smile couldn't be more apparent even if Ray was looking at his face.

"Not the time, Haywood, seriously." Haywood, the fucker, just has to hum. His knuckles are white but his face betrays nothing.

Ray finishes mostly in silence, and when he ties off the knots on Haywood's stitches, it almost looks like he's falling asleep. The sun is climbing in the sky, now, and Haywood looks pale. "I'm calling Pattillo," Ray says after a moment. It's not that he's worried, but the man looks pale in the sunlight, and Ray doesn't want someone dying in his apartment. That's the kind of thing that brings about horror movies.

"Already did," Haywood says. "Told him I'd be in tomorrow."

"You're not sleeping on my couch, Haywood." Ray stands up creakily, leaving the floss on the floor. At this point, he thinks, he's literally too tired to deal with any of this.

"Yeah, I am. And stop calling me Haywood, Ray. My name is Ryan." His voice is too clear for someone who appears nearly comatose, and that's what comforts Ray from outright calling Pattillo, though he stands his ground.

"You're not sleeping on my couch, Ryan."

"Yeah I am," Ryan says, running his hands over his dental floss stitches. They're uneven and unprofessional and will have to be redone as soon as possible. Ray glares at his nearly asleep form, then walks to his room and grabs a blanket for the idiot. When he brings it back, Ryan cracks his eyes open, and they look spectacularly blue.

"Orange juice is in the fridge. Can you stand up to get it?" Ray asks.

"Yeah. Thanks," he says, and Ray tosses the blanket at him before walking back to his bedroom and locking the door.

* * *

The apartment's empty in the morning and there's no note. Ray doesn't exactly want one, but he does find it curious. The only indication he was there is a small bloodstain on the couch that smells strongly of peroxide.

* * *

Grudgingly, Ray has to admit that Gavin and Michael are fantastic together. Not as successful as Michael and him, he thinks to himself. But it's undeniable -- the two of them have chemistry. Michael immediately understands Gavin's high-pressure squawks. Gavin can direct Michael with ease where others are cowed by his tempestuousness. Ray isn't jealous of their partnership, but he does envy the way the switch seems so easy for them. They've done two high-profile jobs in the time Ray is just starting up his second and they've been completed cleanly, which has proven a lot easier than ass-backwards, which is how Ryan prefers to do his.

Ryan isn't a particularly rebellious agent, but he has a certain bloodlust and waywardness that is frustrating above all else. While Ray's trying to wrangle him, to make him report back to HQ, he's off shoving a knife in someone's thigh who doesn't need a knife in their thigh, terrifying locals, having sex, or something. Ray doesn't know. Ryan doesn't tell anyone.

Ray tells this to Gavin over apologetic cafeteria pasta. Gavin repeatedly offers him food for stealing his partner, and Ray accepts completely ungraciously for free food and someone to complain at. Gavin takes it all rather well, never blinking in his bored way at Ray, never derailing the conversation with a weird hypothetical. He just grins at Ray at points and frowns when he hears about Ryan showing up out of the blue at his apartment.

"Infuriating, isn't he?" droles Gavin. Ray shoots him a look and he shakes his head. "Look, I'm not sorry, exactly. You're handling better than I did. I was..." Gavin sighs. "I was going off my rocker, Ray. I couldn't stop him, and I couldn't detach myself. If he got fucked up on my watch, I wouldn't move on."

"Gav," Ray says slowly, putting his fork down. "That's part of our job, you know? That's a risk you're taking no matter who you're paired up with."

"Yeah," Gavin agrees half-heartedly, "but there's a difference between being with someone getting hurt when it's an accident and being with someone hurting when they're asking for it."

Ray stares at Gavin's spaghetti. "No one here's exactly healthy in the head."

"Speak for yourself," Gavin says with a wide grin, and Ray nearly throws his fork at him.

* * *

"You guys did well," Tina says to him over coffee. "I mean, you'd keep doing well if you just fucking let go, dude. What's the grudge about."

Ray stirs his coffee and tries not to raise his defenses immediately. It's not like she's wrong, he thinks. And she's not the kind of person who'd just say something like that to get under his skin. "I don't know," he says at length. "Something about the guy."

Tina smiles with only her top teeth, which is how Ray knows she actually thinks it's funny. "Yeah," she agrees. "He's pretty all right looking, isn't he?"

"Barely noticed," Ray says. She nods at him, not believing, but he doesn't care enough to defend himself.

Ryan walks up then, as if just to make the situation more awkward. He smiles at Tina. "Agent," he says, and she returns a bright, "Agent." He turns to Ray. "Ray," he greets.

Ray rolls his eyes. "Hi, Ryan." Ryan smiles in return, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"That wasn't so rough, was it?"

Ray shrugs and nods at Tina. "I'm gonna take him aside to tell him about the Ohio mission," he says, and she smiles and pats his arm.

* * *

"Heard you're grounded for your next big one!" Michael says loudly, shoving the door open to the glass corner office as Ray's trying to debrief Ryan. It's unorthodox, maybe, but it's Michael, so Ray doesn't complain.

"Yeah, well," Ray glares at Ryan, still a little sore, "that's what happens when you cut off your radio, fuck off on an unapproved flight home, then get in a barfight and show up to your coworker's place. You have to stay in the country." Ryan holds up his hands and puts on an innocent face.

Michael guffaws. "Jesus, you two," he says, ambling over to Ray and sitting next to him. Ray should cover up his work, probably, but again, it's Michael, and his heart feels softer when Michael's around. Ryan's watching them idly but Ray decides then to ignore him. "You're gonna give Gavin and me a fuckin' run for our money on dysfunctional."

Ray grins. "No one's giving you and Gavin a run for your money on anything," he says. "You think I don't hear you screaming at him through his phones? Your voice travels, man. So does his squawking. I'm fucking stunned you get anything done past all those screaming matches."

Michael snorts. "I miss you, asshole," he says fondly, and Ray gives him the dumbest grin he has. "Let's have a movie night this week, alright?"

"Sure, man. Text me." Michael nods and slaps Ray on the back. He salutes Ryan before getting up and taking his leave. Ray turns back to Ryan and rifles at the papers in front of him. "What were we...?"

"Boyfriend?" Ryan asks.

Ray glances up at him. "I guess, kinda. What's it called when you have a boyfriend that you don't kiss or have sex with or have romantic attraction to?"

"Ah," Ryan says. "I've heard of those. Friends, I think they're called."

"Yeah, that doesn't quite fit this situation," Ray says. He clears his throat but Ryan clearly wants to stay on this subject, as he slides in before Ray can continue.

"Little concerned that it's looking to shape up like I'm the only person here you're so tense around," Ryan says. "This Ray guy I keep seeing around looks pretty fucking relaxed." Ray almost groans, and just barely doesn't, shrugs at Ryan instead.

"Are you single?" Ryan asks.

"Are you looking?" Ray shoots back.

Ryan leans back and smiles. "Never was a cat person."

"Then let's get back to work."

* * *

Next time Ryan comes for help, Ray's reading on his couch and he has a first aid kit under the sink. He'd briefly told Ray that the mission was complete before manually cutting off his radio feed, and Ray had nearly thrown his PC off his desk. His foul mood kept past his coming home, and Ryan crawled in through his window two days later, looking pale but cheerful. Ryan's hands are trembling a little, but his voice is calm as he explains he just needs some bandaging, and Ray wants so badly to punch him.

"I'll make it up to you," Ryan promises as Ray swabs his pecs with alcohol. "What does a man so enigmatic as you even want? Hookers? Video games? Drinks? I'll get takeout, seriously, any food you want, on me."

"I eat like a fucking pig," Ray gripes, but there's slight humour. "And I'm ordering a fucking month's worth of Thai food."

"Hey," Ryan protests, but Ray glares up at him.

"I know what kind of money you make, asshole," Ray says, "and you owe me for these medical visits. Now be quiet." Ryan nods.

As Ray's winding bandage around his chest, he can't help but ask, "What are you doing out there?" When Ryan gets his snark face on, Ray just presses on. "Do you get home and immediately cause shit?"

"Guess it's hard for me to keep low," Ryan says. "Coming home to quiet after a mission feels kind of like you're losing your senses. The adrenaline crash..." he trails off. Ray nods even though he doesn't understand. "I can't get escorted off my plane and be brought back to the exam rooms. I really can't." It gets quiet then. When Ray's tied off the bandage tightly, he digs some takeout menus out of his kitchen and pads back to Ryan quietly. Ryan, at this point, seems to have fallen asleep, and Ray sighs and tosses the papers on him.

"For when you wake up, asshole," he whispers to Ryan's sleeping form, then feels foolish. He turns off the lights and wanders to his bedroom and passes out.

* * *

Ramsey corners Ray in the hallway while Ray is on his way for his second mid-morning energy drink. It's not exactly a hard feat as Ray's defenses are hardly at max when he's in the office, but Ray still berates himself quietly as Ramsey grasps at his wrist. It shouldn't be this easy to be ambushed.

"He came to see you before he came back," Ramsey says.

"Yes," Ray confirms, as he assumes Ramsey wants him to. Ramsey nods at him. He looks like he's thinking, and doesn't let go of Ray.

"Do not lower your guard around men like him, Narvaez," Ramsey says at length. "Interpersonal relationships that can't be categorized as professionally friendly are strictly prohibited in this workplace."

Ray stares at him. "Not a problem, sir."

Ramsey lets go of his wrist. "Good to hear it, quartermaster," he says, and walks away.

* * *

Ryan always gets chatty while Ray's fixing him up, and it hits Ray that he doesn't have alcohol, and Ryan is doing something to take his mind off it. It sucks, a bit, realizing he's been brushing aside Ryan's pain this whole time. He takes extra care that night to relay how hard he owned some nerds at Mario Kart earlier, pitching his voice high and low in ways his throat isn't used to, especially with Ryan. Ryan grins and nods and engages with Ray's new enthusiasm, head tilting and nodding to mimic Ray's body language. Any other time it would feel manipulative, but he seems just out of it enough that it messes with Ray's brain, a little bit.

Before Ray goes to his bedroom, he turns around and faces Ryan.

"Stop turning your fucking radio off," he says, and before Ryan can interrupt, he points at him and says, "I'm so serious right now, holy shit Ryan, this is not even about you. For my sanity. Keep your fucking radio on."

Ryan closes his mouth and nods. "Okay. Yeah."

"Good," Ray says, and shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to another. "Well. Good night."

He leaves his door open that night. He assumes Ryan always leaves as soon as he gets up, anyway.

* * *

Their fourth, fifth, and sixth missions pass without hiccups. It shouldn't be reason to celebrate, but it is for them.

* * *

"You'd be great with a sniper rifle," Ryan says to him over a sip of coffee from his standard issue pale yellow plastic coffee mug. It's very ugly and Ryan... isn't, Ray decides. As Ryan's words register, he laughs loudly. And at the sincerity on Ryan's face, he laughs more. "Holy shit, no," he wheezes. "Have you seen me? I'm like one forty of skin and bones and gamer fat. I work out once a month. Don't think I could pick one up."

Ryan shrugs. "Not about muscle. Needs steady hands," he nods at Ray's hands, "and quick thinking. Good risk assessment."

"I'll leave the sniping to the big dogs, thanks," Ray says. "Trust me, you don't want me on the field."

Ryan frowns. "Yeah, guess not," he says. He looks like he wants to say something else, but Ray stares resolutely at his mug.

"Are you ever gonna get a real mug in here?" he asks. "Seriously, no one uses those except new recruits and the IT department." Ryan laughs and Ray tries not to feel guilty when he sees Ramsey walk by.

* * *

"Are Ramsey and Pattillo being weird with anyone else?" Gavin asks under the din of their sushi place at lunch. He's only paused shoveling his mouth full long enough to ask the question, and resumes immediately after, as if his mouth needs something to do.

"Fuck, Ramsey," Ray says. "He pulled me aside and gave me this talk about Ryan, and he keeps looking at me lately, like, I know you're getting it up the ass daily, and I want you to stop. I'm not even getting laid and I'm getting the heat for it."

Tina frowns at them. "He just wants what's best for us," she says. "He knows what happens when you get too close to people in the business, when you trust people. There's some rumours about his ex wife, people said she was... undercover, part of a terrorist group, or something. You don't see these people that are right under your nose. Safer to not trust 'em, right?" Ray grins at Tina. She's always been the smartest out of them.

"He had a different wife before?" Gavin asks. "Before this one? She was an agent?"

"Yeah, who knows," Ray waves it off. "If he wanted people to know, he'd tell them." Tina's mid-bite, but she points her chopsticks at him and gives him a thumbs up.

Gavin rests his chin on his hand and stares out the window. "Fair," he says faintly in a way that says he's checking out of the conversation, and Ray turns his attention to Tina full-time.

* * *

Next time Ryan shows up, it's after a night on the town. He's gotten into a fist fight if the shiner on his left eye is anything to go by, but the real problem is his bleeding right hand. He's got stitching wire now, and when he finishes, he puts his hands on Ryan's knees and stares up at him. "You're a goddamn idiot." Ryan nods, but agreement just is not enough right now. "Why here, Ry? Seriously."

"I wanted to see if you could handle it," Ryan says softly. "Just at first. Wanted to push the fuck out of your boundaries. You had such a stick up your ass around me, Ray."  
Ray nods and breathes out heavily, and looks down. "Why now?" he asks, and he doesn't like how weak it is, how insecure, how he even asks.

Ryan puts a hand hestitantly on the top of Ray's head, and Ray looks back up at his eyes. "I feel safe here," he says, and Ray's lungs hurt. _Please stay_ , he thinks fiercely, hoping to god Ryan understands, and hoping he doesn't. _Please stay_.

* * *

The sun isn't up yet when Ray wakes up next to Ryan, their heads tilted away from each other but their hands linked. He breathes out heavily and blinks, trying to figure out the time, and when he pulls his hand away, Ryan's hand tightens. He stops.

"For a bit," Ryan murmurs. "Just a bit." Ray nods and leans back, moving more into Ryan's space. The outside is just barely lighting up, an edge of soft grey around deep blue. He's warm, so he has no excuse, but Ray presses his head against Ryan's chest anyhow. Morning madness, he'll claim, as he listens to Ryan's heartbeat, steady and hard and there. The extra warmth from Ryan's side seeps into him slowly, and it doesn't feel as scary as it would during the daytime, when they'd have to look at each other, when they'd have to talk about it.

Right now, Ray thinks. Right now, everything's fine.

* * *

When Ray wakes up next, he's in bed, and his apartment is empty again.

* * *

After target practice and a mild (for Michael) to heavy (for Ray) workout, after quick showers, Ray brings it up, hoping Michael's aggression is worked out completely. Ray rubs a hand towel over his head and decides to just jump for it. "Have you ever fallen for someone... here?" Ray asks, aiming for non-chalance, but Michael's mouth presses into a thin line and he knows he failed.

"If things are that bad, Ray..." Michael says, but he trails off. He shrugs, and Ray shakes his head.

"They're not," he says. "Guess I'm just getting nervous for the future. Can't date a civvie, right? That'd just be a... disaster. Dating some poor government bastard seems the way to go. Out of department, of course." He throws his towel in the basket when he realizes how unconvincing he's being, and Michael watches him warily. Desperate to take the heat off himself, Ray asks, "How's stuff with Gavin?"

"Good," Michael says. "Doesn't stop your situation's weirdness, though." Ray should have known the cocksucker wouldn't rise to the bait. "I'm gonna tell you what my mom told me: don't fucking shit where you eat."

Ray pulls on his pants, trying not to look as grumpy as he feels. "Your mom has a filthy mouth."

"Well, dude," Michael slaps a hand on Ray's back, "she's right."

* * *

Ryan goes offline for the first time in months, and Ray's blood runs cold. "Agent Haywood!" he yells. Yelling is useless, and he knows it won't relay any information that wouldn't get across just by saying, but he yells all the same, in the desperate hope the radio is just malfunctioning. "Haywood!" He looks at Gavin desperately. Michael was with Ryan for a while, but they split up and Michael's radio had gone offline minutes ago--not a promising sign.

"If you need a moment--" Gavin says warily, but the moment Ray realizes he can't be of help, he's back to focusing on the screen in front of him that's feeding him absolutely no information. They'd been trying to infiltrate a social being held by a very powerful, very dangerous, arms dealer. It couldn't be good. Their equipment didn't fall to jammers.

"Ryan, god damn it!" Ray shouts. "Ryan, get your fucking radio back online, now!" Besides buzzing, while everyone is still doing their work around him, the room is mostly silent as his voice gets steadily more desperate. "I swear to fucking god, Ry, I'm going to fucking strangle you if you don't--"

His headset is ripped off in that moment and his chair is whirled around. Pattillo is standing there, expression unreadable, staring at him. Ray breathes heavily, staring at the headset. "Give that back," he grits out.

Pattillo's expression quickly charges from ambiguity to anger. "Get on this headset, Gavin," he barks, still staring at Ray. "I'll take yours."

Gavin looks between Ray and Pattillo worriedly, but switches their sets out. Pattillo puts on the feed to Michael's radio and pushes the mic away from his mouth before addressing Ray again. "You," he says. "Go to your office. Now. Don't leave the building. We'll be in touch."

Ray breathes heavily. "No," he says. "I'm staying right here." When Ryan answers, when Ryan realizes how pissed Ray is, he wants to be here. Wants to hear his voice.

"Ray," Pattillo snaps. "I'm calling security if you don't leave right now, and they'll drag you to your office, and I'll have to file an incident report."

Ray slams his hands down on his desk and, maturely, throws his chair over. He doesn't yell again, though, just stalks off to his office, where he stays for nine hours.

* * *

"He's alive," Gavin says, peeking his head into Ray's office.

"I know," Ray grits out. "Where is he."

Gavin ducks his head, looks behind him in both directions, then wanders in and closes the door after him. "I'm not sure. It's classified." Ray nods at him, tries to remind himself Gavin isn't the problem, stares at the tablet in front of him. "I'm sorry, lad. He's gonna be all right."

"I know," Ray repeats.

"No," Gavin says softly. "You don't. It's all right." He clasps his hands behind his back and leans against the door. He looks vulnerable--something they don't do here, ever. It makes Ray's resolve a little weak. "I know how you feel." Gavin's voice is quiet. "It's not the same."

Ray stills his hands and puts the tablet down. "I worried just as much about Michael," he says, and his voice wobbles, and he hates himself. "I worried every single second about Michael, but I never did this. I never stepped out of line. He always comes back, I know he does. With Ryan, it's just..."

"Irrational," Gavin nods. "I know." He pauses and closes his eyes before continuing. "That's why I ended things with Ryan, actually. I thought it would be easier, taking on a simpler charge, one that didn't terrify me. But now I'm more scared than ever. Maybe it would have been easier if I never..."

"Infinitely," Ray replies. "I have no fucking doubts about that."

Gavin sighs deeply, then draws himself up. "Pattillo will be by soon," he says. "He's taking you to see Ramsey. Good luck, Ray."

Ray nods at him, and he leaves.

* * *

"You're suspended from working with Haywood," Ramsey says. His face is blank. "As he's not to be back in work for another couple of months, you're off duty until you're reassigned again. We have no proof you were in a romantic relationship, so you will not be fired, but behaviour like this is unacceptable."

Ray nods, waiting for leave to be given. Ramsey doesn't gesture him away, though, just looks at him appraisingly, then makes a cutting motion with his hand. Pattillo presses the "stop" button on their recording, presumably.

"Gotta say," he says. "I expect better from all my agents, but especially you, kid. There's a reason we prohibit these relationships. We can't afford the mess."

Ray folds his hands in front of himself nervously, then mentally berates himself for the small nervous tic. "I apologize," he says. "I strive to hold myself to a higher standard. I failed."

Ramsey frowns at him. "This is off the record," he says. "Chill the formality. We can't very well fuckin' stop you from having feelings, can we? The problem is acting on them. These rules aren't made up to stop people from having fun, dude, they're there to save you, and us, a lot of fuckin' grief. And maybe save lives, who knows." Ray nods, but stares at his own hands. Ramsey snaps his fingers at Pattillo, who starts the recording back up. He looks down at the papers in front of him. "You're dismissed."

* * *

Tina begins working with Barbara, a new agent. Ray works with Lindsay. She's stellar. Gets the job done well, takes advantage of the office medic, doesn't make house calls. They can laugh on the job, and she never makes him worry needlessly.

* * *

Ray doesn't see Ryan again for a half a year. It's at work. Ryan corners him in the kitchen, but Ray ducks under the arm that's caging him in and walks away angrily.

* * *

It's a formality for Ray to have his gun out when he hears quiet footsteps in his kitchen. He knows it's Ryan, but he's a trained agent. He hears Ryan before he sees him, behind him, and he whirls around and smacks the butt of his gun against the side of Ryan's head, who curses loudly.

"Owww," Ryan groans, but he doesn't step back. "Ray, why." Ray's hackles are immediately raised, and he slams the gun down on his countertop.

"Oh, fuck you," he spits. "You're fine, Mr. Three Broken Ribs And A Trashed Kidney And Still Manages To Preserve His Precious Sunglasses Better Than His Radio. I should fucking shoot your pancreas out for everything--" He stops when he feels Ryan's hand on his face. Ray looks up at him, and his face is guarded, but hopeful in a way Ray wouldn't have seen a year ago and wouldn't have recognized nine months ago.

"Ray," he says, and it's exactly the way he ached for when Ryan was down. Soft. Strong. "Ray, please, can I kiss you?"

Ray punches him in the gut. Ryan doubles over for a second, but it can't be that bad, because he pulls himself back up and puts his hands on Ray's shoulders and does his best to talk through it. "I spent five months in Jersey," Ryan says. "I missed you. They wouldn't let me back."

"You know where I live," Ray says sourly. But then Ryan presses his lips against Ray's, and Ray works their mouths together. Ray starts pulling him back, into his bedroom, away from the light. It feels easier than talking, but Ryan keeps pulling away same as he keeps initiating, as if he can't decide what to do. 

"They're always watching us, Ray," Ryan says breathlessly as he pulls back from Ray and works his hands up his shirt. Ray pulls him backwards to his bed, pulling Ryan on top as he falls. "I wasn't gonna be the reason you got fired. You were still suspended." Ryan keeps a distance from Ray, not grinding down as he should be.

"Shut your mouth," Ray says, pulling it down to him and coaxing it open for a different reason. Ryan pulls back, goes to say something, but Ray palms his dick through his pants and says, "No, really, shut your mouth." Ryan stutters out a groan and Ray cups it firmly, stroking its length roughly through Ryan's jeans. "I missed you so fucking much, Ryan, I'm not doing this right now."

Ryan hisses. "Ray, fucking seriously, we need to talk right now--"

"Then talk!" Ray seethes, unbuttoning Ryan's pants.

"Ray!" shouts Ryan, pushing his hand down, and at that, he stops. "Ray, god," he leans down and hides his face in Ray's neck, panting. "You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you, okay? No idea. But I can't--not now--"

"Why?" Ray lets out, strangled. "What the fuck is stopping us right now?" He pushes Ryan up, away.

"I need you to know I'm serious about this," Ryan says roughly. "I need you to know I'll still be here in the morning. And I need you to fucking listen to me!"

Ray stops moving, except his chest, which is heaving. He glares at Ryan.

"I quit," Ryan says, and when Ray's face scrunches in remorse, he says, "No, I had to. It's fine. Geoff wrongly vetted me before, actually, I wouldn't have passed the psyche eval." Ray nods slowly. "I've been packing stuff up, doing last minute paperwork. I wanted you to know before everyone else. I'm out."

Ray hesitates and presses a hand against Ryan's face, Ryan's slowly smiling face, and his gut hurts. "Not for me, Ryan," he says hesitantly, not wanting to sound conceited, but wanting nothing less than to be the reason Ryan cut himself off.

Ryan cocks his head. "Kinda." He leans in to kiss under Ray's ear. "People like us, they forget to cut and run when they're ahead, don't they?"

Ray almost runs his hands through Ryan's hair, but pulls his hands back to himself right before he can. "I think it's a lot harder for them to hold on," he confesses softly.

* * *

They fall asleep with their hands intertwined.

* * *

Ryan's slipping his jacket on when Ray pads out to the living room, dressed only in boxers and slippers. Ryan stops shrugging it on when he sees Ray blinking at him sleepily.

"Always leaving," Ray says, but he grins at the end. Ryan nods and zips himself up as Ray wanders closer.

"Gotta go pick some stuff up from work," he says. "I'm gonna finalize this right now. I seem to have a horny boyfriend waiting for me, and I promised myself I'd be done with this whole situation before I have sex with him."

Ray's heart jumps. "Well, sheesh," he says, looking up at Ryan's face. "Really shouldn't keep that poor thing waiting, should you?"

Ryan leans down and kisses him, and it's soft, and warm, and human.

"You going back to sleep?" Ryan asks with one foot out of the door.

"Yeah," Ray says, walking away. "You can let yourself in."


End file.
